Love Brothers in the Holy Land

AARON at the age of 18

By way of our common membership in the Jewish community in Indianapolis, I had known Aaron Leve casually for quite a few years, but we became fast friends during our senior year at North Central High.   As things stood in those days, he belonged to a rather rich family that lived in a large, yellow brick home just outside the Broad Ripple neighborhood,  not far from Butler University.  He liked to entertain me in his room, sometimes along with his younger brother David.  

Aaron was shorter than I, not particularly handsome, small of frame.  His light brown hair contrasted to that of his dark-haired sibling.   Both of them, it seems, were rebellious teens, but their parents apparently didn't know the shenanigans they were pulling.

He held court there, as it were, introducing me to topics and discoveries he made over the years.  I found him quite interesting because of his intellectual refinement and knowledge of a wide variety of subjects.  He showed delight, for example, over some of the more raunchy passages by the Roman poet Catullus.  In his enthusiasm and with a slight lisp, he was likely to pronounce the name "Catulluth".

Somewhat contrary to the prevailing opinions, he preferred the plays of Christopher Marlowe-- Tamburlaine, Doctor Faustus, The Jew of Malta-- to those of Shakespeare, and he loved composing Elizabethan-style lines of his own, describing his ogling of "yon bawdy serving wench" in some imaginary Sixteenth Century tavern.  Among other favorites, he introduced me to Tristes Tropiques by the anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss , from whom he inherited a deep distrust of modern Western society.  He was quite familiar with contemporary New Wave films-- Jules and Jim, La Dolce Vita, Breathless-- (though we did occasionally indulge in the sort of smut exhibited at the Fox Theatre downtown on Illinois Street, a former burlesque theater which then advertised itself as the "Home of Unusial Art Film", extremely tame stuff compared to the porn of the present day.

Aaron introduced me to books I'd never heard of (Tristes Tropiques, Outlaw Blues), movies (Mondo Cane, Jules and Jim)and magazines:  music magazines (Crawdaddy, Rolling Stone, Cheetah).   For Aaron's most significant and long-lasting influe)nce on me was his keen appreciation of music.  It was he who first hipped me to  The Kinks, a lifelong passion.  He also reinforced my great love for The Beach Boys by introducing me to the writings of Paul Williams, one of the first of the new breed of rock critics to emerge in the late '60s.

But the greatest influence he exerted on me was undoubtedly his interest in  jazz, within which he most admired the practitioners of the "New Thing":  Ornette Coleman and Don Cherry, Pharoah Sanders, Archie Shepp, and John Coltrane.   Looking back to the past, he was particularly fond of the pianist Lennie Tristano, whose "Requiem" and "Line-up" were often played for me.  I know I'll never forget the time, a few years after high school, the sensation of listening to Coleman's The Shape of Jazz to Come on my first encounter with hashish, the horns flying high above the ceaseless, churning rhythm section.  I might also mention that Aaron provided my first real exposure to the music of Duke Ellington,  whose Piano Reflections launched me on a listening quest that continues to the present day.

Aaron preferred Jimmy Smith's recordings arranged by Lalo Schifrin over those done by Oliver Nelson, The Cat over Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?   Highly discriminating taste, but this particular comparison remains meaningless to me.

The whole album

The single only

Aaron introduced me to "The Place," on College Avenue near the old Kirschbaum Jewish center, one of the city's few espresso houses.  The establishment regularly featured poetry and jazz combos, especially trios led by trombonist  David Baker (at that time he was playing bass, rather than trombone, because his embouchure had been harmed in a car accident).  In those days, I generally appeared in my ugly yellow turtleneck and affected hipness as best I could.  Espresso tasted like mud; I've never tasted it since.

Upon the death of Indianapolis guitarist Wes Montgomery, I recall Aaron's grieving "Why did he have to die?  Why couldn't it have been Chet Atkins?"

*

Jubilee City escapades.  Known also as"Jew City," the place was a large, grungy discount store, much like a Kmart,  on the east side of town off  Keystone Avenue.  They were distinguished, however, when it came to their large stock of vinyl LPs, especially jazz albums.  Aaron introduced me to this emporium  in about 1968, when mono LPs were being superseded by new stereo versions. With Leve's guidance,the whole gamut of jazz labels-- Blue Note, Prestige, Atlantic, Verve--almost an entire world of jazz became available at a more than reasonable price:  the mono albums were marked down to $1.99, affording a nice little boost to my record collection.   It was there I acquired such beauties as Bobby_Hutcherson's Components,  Herbie Hancock"s Maiden Voyage, Jimmy Giuffre, and other jazz essentials.  We also became adept at surreptitiously removing some of the cheap price stickers and using them to cover up price tags on stereo albums, and consequently purchase them at greatly reduced prices, until the time I got caught and was banished for good from wonderful Jubilee City.

When, in the fall of 1966, we both became freshmen at IU, we were expecting to be roommates in  McNutt Quad, in vain as it turned out.  Instead, my roommate turned out to be Russell Clark Beiber, a true know-nothing business major who had been tossed out of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon frat house for poor grades.  As a contemporary jingle had it:

Half the world is white and free.
The other half is SAE.

Russ was an asshole, and I grew to hate him and his loutish buddy who lived in another wing of the quad.  The two of them were unrelenting in calling me "Mouse" and Aaron "Squirrel," laughing like morons at how clever they were.  Among other cruel pranks, they tricked me into "isometric sit-ups," in which the victim ends up with his face buried in someone's ass.  I recall that Russ took much pride in his bedspread, a gift from his parents, which was patterned to mimic a Ferrari.  It seems he was also a devout Christian Scientist and became upset with me for mocking his idiotic religion.

At any rate, I wasn't heartbroken when Russ flunked out of school by the end of the term.  I suppose he went back home to Michigan City to sponge off his parents and fuck the local teenagers.  But still I was unable to share a room with Aaron:  My next roommate was Bruce Bloy, a true shift in my axis mundi.

Aaron himself was kicked out of  IU the following spring, having led a raucous panty raid at one of the women's dorms.  I believe somewhere there may be a photo of Aaron at the top of a tall ladder, accepting underwear coming out an open window.   The next thing I knew, he'd enrolled at Butler University back home.

At that time, he had a girlfriend from Indianapolis,  Cheryl Diamond.  I recall my father meeting her and using the Yiddish word mees (ugly) to describe her, but I never thought of her in that way.  When she enrolled at IU, we maintained a friendship close enough for her to tell me one morning of the previous night she'd spent with Aaron.  "He took my flowers," she said, not quite knowing what to make of that situation.

Cheryl Diamond

Even after his expulsion, Aaron retained a rented house in Bean Blossom, a few miles east of the Bloomington campus, where he  spoke of getting his "financial trip" together.   It was also there that he introduced me to John McLaughlin's Devotion, one of the first records to bear the designation of "fusion."

If there is one thing I'll always remember about Aaron, it would be the story of his and brother David's trip to Israel, although I'm not certain of the year it happened.  They were part of a tour group that travelled to various locations around the country.  Somehow, through someone's misreading their surname, the Leves became known as  "the "Love Brothers" along the way.

The tour took them out to the countryside, where the group stayed at a kibbutz, but it was when they visited Tel Aviv that the trip became really interesting.  Aaron succeeded in scoring a large slab of fine hashish, brought it back to the hotel, and began holding court, as he had at his parents' house in Indianapolis.  One or two at a time, the other kids were invited in to be corrupted by their first toke of hash, and eventually this activity came to the attention of the leaders of the tour.  Within hours, the State of Israel declared the brothers personas non grata, and they were deported back to the U.S. forthwith.  I wasn't there to witness any of this, but it was easy to imagine the activity in that hotel room, as I'd experienced it earlier back home.

Since about 1972, I lost track of Aaron altogether.  We parted ways without saying goodbye, as I went on to make my home in Chicago, got married, and started a new chapter in my life.  The last time I saw him, in the early '70s, to my recollection he was living in a tent in Indianapolis with a 14-year-old girl.

I'm not sure, but I believe brother David died young, decades ago.

 If Aaron is still living free as of this writing, he is one lucky son of a bitch.

Stanley Jordan, Eighth Wonder of the World

IN ROTATION:

• Bob Brookmeyer & Friends (Columbia, 1964) sextet:  Brookmeyer and Stan Getz, plus four rhythm players:  Gary Burton, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, and Elvin Jones (who at times seems too "modern" for the hornmen.  It's odd to hear Elvin churning away underneath some of the solos.

Tony Bennett guests on Billy Strayhorn's "Day Dream."

Burton's vibes, though not present on every tune, help put sparkle into the arrangement.  I wish he could have played more.  Burton wrote a short memoir about these sessions, following notes by Dan Morgenstern.

Program includes three Brookmeyer originals.  Remainder is standards plus a sprinkle of the obscure.

• Steve Lacy, Reflections (New Jazz/ OJC, 1958)

with Mal Waldren, Buell Neidlinger, and Elvin Jones

The album's title is a little vague.  Lacy's refections on Monk?  Monk's tune of the same name? Monk's own reflections helping to create that piece?

Well-chosen, all-Monk program.  Most of the selections are from the early '50s, Monk's recordings for Blue Note and Prestige.

• Jimmy Heath, Nice People:  The Riverside Collection (Riverside/ OJC, 1959-1964)

compiled from the six albums Heath recorded as a leader for Riverside

ensembles range in size from an informal sextet to a ten-piece orchestra

almost all of the compositions and arrangements are by Heath

Jimmy's brothers, Percy and Albert are often at hand.  Other sidemen were drawn from the label's stable of players.

Many of the arrangements include parts for french horns and tuba.  Recalls Max Roach's similar experiments around the same time.

• Miles Davis, Vol. 2 (Blue Note, 1953-4)

Heath's "CTA" brings me back to Miles's older version, part of my DNA now.  That number came from the second of three sessions Davis recorded during his brief association with Blue Note.

• Wondermints, Bali (Varese Sarabande, 2000)
• Bob Brookmeyer, Traditionalism Revisited (Pacific Jazz/ Essential Jazz Albums, 1957)

• Sathima Bea Benjamin, A Morning in Paris (enja, 1963)
• Van Morrison, His Band and the Street Choir (Warner Bros. 1970)

•  Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band, The Dust Blows Forward (Warner Bros. 2-CD compilation, 1966-1982; released 1999)

 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,  Grow Fins: Rarities 1965–1982 (Revenant 5-CD compilation, 1999)

Freddie Hubbard Quintet, Rutgers & Amsterdam (no label, 1970)

Paul McCartney, Chaos and Creation in the Backyard (Capitol, 2005)

Bill Evans, The Complete Village Vanguard Recordings, 1961 (Riverside 3-CD boxed set)

• Duke Ellington, Never Before Released Recordings, 1965-1972

Horace Silver and the Jazz Messengers (Blue Note, 1954, 1955)

LIGHTLY & POLITELY:

• Lee Morgan, The Sidewinder (Blue Note, 1963)
• Richard and Mimi Fariña, Memories (Vanguard, 1968)

various sources, including tunes from the Newport Folk Festival and a pair sung by Joan Baez

• Hiromi, Place to Be (Telarc, 200?)
• Joni Mitchell, Clouds (Reprise, 1969)
• Susannah McCorkle, No More Blues (Concord,, 1989)
• Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, Drum Suite (Columbia, 1956-7)

Art Blakey's Percussion :  with Ray Bryant + percussionists

1.  The Sacrifice

2.  Cubano Chant (Ray Bryant)

3.  Oscalypso (Pettiford)

Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers:  with Bill Hardman, Jackie McLean, Sam Dockery, Spanky DeBrest

4.  Nica's Tempo (Gryce)

5.  D's Dilemma (Mal Waldron)

6.  Just for Marty (Hardman)

Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, earlier lineup:  with Donald Byrd, Ira Sullivan, Kenny Drew, Wilbur Ware

7.  Lil' T (Byrd)

8.  The New Message-1 (Byrd)

9.  The New Message-3

• Dick Gregory, In Living Black and White (Colpix LP, 1961)
• Barry Harris Trio, Magnificent! (Prestige/ OJC, 1969) with Ron Carter, Leroy Williams; includes "Bean and the Boys" a la Bud

• Chet Baker and Art Pepper, Playboys, AKA Picture of Heath 
• Hiromi, Place to Be (Telarc, 2009)
• Oscar Pettiford, Bass Hits (Topaz Jazz, 1943-1946)
• Ella Fitzgerald Sings the George & Ira Gershwin Songbook (Verve/ Not Now Music, 1959)
• McCoy Tyner, The Real McCoy (Blue Note, 1967)
• Susannah McCorkle, Sabiá (Concord, 1990)
• Harry Nilsson, A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night (RCA, 1973)
• Steve Turre, Rainbow People (High Note, 2007)

Our Car Club

NEXT: The Pet Sounds Box Set